Free Chasing Love's Wings by Zoey Derrick Page A

visible but subtle.
    I make a show of wiping drool from my chin, though I’m not actually drooling, and
     she laughs. “So I take it you approve?” She smiles as she walks toward me. I can tell
     that she is a little unsteady in her heels.  
    “Do they hurt?”  
    She shakes her head. “No, I just haven’t worn heels like this in a while. Takes me
     a minute.” I embrace her as she comes to stand with me. I kiss her neck and then down
     her shoulder. “I told you to behave yourself.”
    “Yeah.” I snort. “Like that’s gonna happen.” She laughs. “Here,” I say as I hand her
     one of the glasses of shiraz, and she takes a sip, then sets the glass down. “Don’t
     like it?”  
    “No, it tastes great, I’m not sure if I’m over my alcohol binge. It turns my stomach.”
    Good. But I don’t say that out loud. I get chills every time I think about what I
     might’ve come home to if I hadn’t come home when I did. She was working herself into
     some serious alcohol poisoning. The day after, she spent a good part of the day in
     the bathroom as her drunk haze seemed to finally wear off and her hangover really
     set in.  
    “Are you ready?” I ask, and she nods, heading toward the stairs.  
     
    ******
    Cami
    ******

    When Tristan and I step out of the condo, there is a sleek black limo waiting for
     us. I look at him and he shrugs, but I can see his goofy, I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about
     grin on his face, and I smile.  
    This is really the first time we’ve been out since returning from Tarah. Things have
     been pretty much business since the night he came home. Which has been good for me:
     It is keeping my mind off of the fact that we’re going to Montana and that we will
     be a short distance away from the ranch, where Bobby has been living for the last
     year. While I want to go see him, I’m not sure I can do it without completely losing
     it and going postal on him.  
    Though combing through all those videos and all that documentation I sort of understand,
     there is more to it than what he is showing and I’m not sure I want to find out more
     about his reasons. So many decisions to make.  
    We take the limo to pick everyone up — Ty and Jo, Beau and Mick, then finally Travis
     and Naomi — then we are headed downtown to Excelsior, an exclusive restaurant and
     bar plus nightclub that is frequented by local and visiting celebrities. I did my
     due diligence to try and talk Tristan out of this place for tonight, mainly because,
     as we pull up, there is a red carpet leading to the door, and lining either side of
     that carpet are photographers waiting to see who is showing up.  
    “Oh, for hell,” Beau says as we pull up.  
    Ty and Tristan both laugh. “We can take you around back?” Ty says to her, and she
     scowls at him. “Or not.”  
    Everyone starts laughing, but I know that, deep down, Beau is actually enjoying this.
     I take her and Mick in. Mick looks nervous as hell, which is probably how he should
     be. It’s a big night for him. I give him a reassuring smile as Beau is looking around
     outside, waiting for our driver to come and open the door. No wonder Tyson insisted
     on sandwiching me between him and Tristan.  
    “Tristan and Cami, you guys come out last. Maybe we can throw off the photogs if everyone
     else climbs out first.”  
    “That might work if you weren’t getting out first.” Tristan chuckles. He knows that
     Tyson’s face is as well known as Tristan’s, given that he is in all of Tristan’s candid
     paparazzi shots.  
    “Good point, but oh well. You know how this goes.” The door suddenly opens and the
     flashbulbs erupt. Jolene is followed by Mick and Beau climbing out first, and the
     flashes stop.  
    “Hmph,” Beau huffs, and I start laughing. Naomi is next, but then the cameras start
     up again. This group knows who she is, no doubt because she is caught with Travis
     constantly.  
    The flashes pick up in double time as